Blood Trail - C. J. Box [12]
“I was wondering that myself,” Joe said.
“There’s something going on here we don’t know about, that’s for damned sure.”
Joe nodded. “I agree.”
“Me too,” McLanahan said.
“What are you doing on our channel?” Kiner asked McLanahan. Joe held his tongue.
“Just remindin’ you boys who’s in charge of this investigation,” McLanahan drawled.
JOE WAS struck immediately by the three hunters waiting for them at the camp. They looked young, hard, fit, and intense, and they started walking up the rough two-track to meet the convoy of law-enforcement vehicles as soon as Joe cleared the rim and saw them. Many of the hunters Joe encountered were older and softer. These three reminded him of an elite commando unit on patrol. All three had their rifles with them and carried them naturally. Joe and Kiner pulled over so Sheriff McLanahan could take the lead.
The sheriff stopped and got out of his Blazer to meet the hunters. They introduced themselves as Chris Urman, Craig Hysell, and Jake Dempster. Urman appeared to be in charge, and Joe stood with Kiner and listened as the hunters described what had happened.
“Uncle Frank wanted to scout elk on his own this morning,” Urman, Frank’s nephew, told McLanahan. Urman was tall, with a long face and steady eyes. While he spoke he slung his rifle from one shoulder to the other with a fluid, well-practiced movement and without pausing. Joe thought, Military. “He said he’d be back by breakfast unless he got his bull. I made him take a radio so he could call in either way. He was supposed to be back here by oh-eight-hundred hours at the latest, and when he didn’t show up by oh-eight-thirty we tried to call him. Craig here said he heard a shot around oh-seven-thirty,” Urman said, gesturing to one of the other hunters, who stepped forward.
The hunter held out his hand, said, “Craig Hysell. I heard just one shot. I waited to hear a second but it never came. I thought it was from the east, where Frank went, but I couldn’t be sure because of the way sound echoes around up here.”
Joe noted the times in his spiral.
The third hunter, Jake Dempster, was dark, with a stern expression. “I didn’t hear it,” he said.
“So when he didn’t come in for breakfast you went looking for him,” McLanahan said.
“Yes, sir,” Urman said. “And we found him.”
“You didn’t see nobody else?”
“No, sir, we didn’t see anyone and we didn’t hear any vehicles. There’s only one road into this camp and nobody came down it until you just now. But there sure as hell was somebody out there. And for all we know, he still is.”
“Can we drive to the scene?” McLanahan asked.
“We’ve gotta walk. There’s no road.”
“Well,” McLanahan said, “lead the way.”
Urman turned crisply and started up a trail and his companions fell in behind him. Joe, Kiner, and McLanahan and his two deputies followed.
“WE JUST got back from Iraq,” Jake Dempster told Joe over his shoulder. “Wyoming National Guard. Chris’s uncle Frank invited us all to come here elk hunting when we got back. He was a good old guy. This is his camp. We’ve been looking forward to this trip for seven months. It’s the only thing that got me through some days when it was a hundred and forty degrees and I was sick as hell of dealing with those Iraqi knuckleheads.”
“Thanks for your service,” Joe said.
Dempster nodded. “We all saw some pretty bad stuff over there where we were stationed, near Tikrit. You know the stories.”
“Yup.”
“Yup.”
“But in two years over there in the world’s armpit, I never seen anything like this,” he said. “Shooting Uncle Frank was bad enough but what was done to his body afterwards is something else. If we catch who did it, you’re gonna see Chris go medieval on his ass. And me and Craig are going to help him. So I hope you guys catch whoever did it fast, because you’ll be doing them a favor.”
Dempster’s eyes were hard and clear. Joe said, “I believe you.”
“I gotta tell you something else,” Dempster said as they walked. “I realize it can’t be used as evidence or anything, but my buddies